


Listen To The Musn'ts

by greenbergsays



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Girl!Greenberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbergsays/pseuds/greenbergsays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Listen to the <i>never have</i>s, then listen close to me."</p><p>*</p><p>Or the one where Coach is in a coma and Greenberg visits him in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen To The Musn'ts

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the scene in **03x19: Letharia Vulpina** where Coach gets shot with an arrow. [Poem](http://i.behappy.me/21798/default.jpg) by Shel Silverstein.

“Listen to the _musn’t_ s, child, listen to the _don’t_ s.”

A girl in a lacrosse jersey sits in a cramped hospital room.

Propped up on her knees, there rests a children’s book of poems; her favorite, though no one has ever asked. The book is aged and worn, the spine frayed and cracked. When opened, the pages fall naturally to one poem in particular.

It is this page, this poem, that the girl reads from.

The nurses all know her. They have grown to recognize her over the past weeks; her face, her voice, her poem. She is a constant now.

Every day after school, she stops by the hospital. Sometimes, she brings an extra visitor; other times, she brings flowers. More often than not, however, she comes alone and with only her book in tow.

No one else visits that particular patient without her.

“Listen to the _shouldn’t_ s, the _impossible_ s, the _won’t_ s.”

Every day, the same words.

Most of the staff can recite her poem by heart now. They’ve all been witness to her vigil, have heard her recite it in a quiet, soothing voice. It isn’t just a poem anymore; not to them and not to her.

It’s a plea, a demand. It’s a prayer repeated every day and never with less conviction than the day before.

“Listen to the _never have_ s, then listen close to me.”

The doctors say that blood loss is the culprit.

They also say it’s unlikely this particular patient will ever wake up again. The longer he stays under, the more it seems they’re right. The nurses try to tell her this - kindly, always kindly - but just as kindly, their efforts are rebuked. She doesn’t accept their pitying looks or their sad smiles.

She just sits in that cramped little room and reads her poem, day after day.

“Anything can happen, child —”

The bedclothes rustle, fingers twitching against the mattress, and for the first time, her words falter.

The words die on her lips and she sits frozen, staring as tired, unfocused eyes blink open. They flit about the room, taking in their surroundings, and then land on her. Their eyes meet for the first time since a sunny day in the woods, when her hands were bloodstained and an arrow in his stomach took him away from the world.

His brows furrow in confusion.

“Greenberg?”

Her solemn expression breaks, replaced by a brilliant smile. “Hey, Coach.”

_Anything can be._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](greenbergsays.tumblr.com).


End file.
